You’ve heard the joke: How do you know if someone ran a marathon? They’ll tell you.

How do you know if they’re running another one? They’ll tell you again.

Hi, it’s me. Telling you I’m running another one. Again. Chicago in October. This time with my daughter, who will turn 21 a few days before we cross the finish line together. (Assuming we stay healthy and uninjured and all the other assumptions that aren’t so much assumptions as they are hopes and prayers and miles logged.)

This year, I’m committed to learning a new life lesson from each of the 16 weeks of training. We’re five weeks in, so here goes:

Don’t trust the first mile. If it’s easier than you expected, your body is fooling you. If it’s harder than you expected, your body is acclimating. Sometimes it takes a while for oxygen and blood and willpower to get to the right places.

The first mile, of course, is a metaphor. Could be the first day of a new job, or the first day without a job. Could be the first week of a breakup, or the first month of a marriage. The first month in a new city. The first night without your kid at home. The first holiday with your new in-laws. The first year of a loss you’re certain you’ll never recover from.

Pain is funny........

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